But Too Well

XXXIII : Confess

And I get it, and it confuses me, and in the end all I'm really thinking is yeah? "Prove it."

And it's just two syllables but it's all he needs to close the distance, to pull me towards him and wrap his arms around me, and I let him. I let him I let him I let him, and I bury my face in the warmth of his shoulder, hear him whisper soft words into my ear and he tells me. He tells me everything.

He tells me that he never knew Marco was going to come and do that.

He never even told them about me.

He beat the living shit out of that bastard when he found out.

He needed to know I was okay because he never meant for this to happen.

He was worried.

He was angry.

And damn it, I believe him. I really do.

Don't give me that. If you were there in his arms, if you heard the brutal, halting sincerity in his low, heavy voice you would believe him too.

I lean against the wall and he clutches me by the waist, and his nose brushes ever so softly against mine, and for the first time I know, with absolute certainty, that this wrong, messed up, completely and utterly impossible thing that there is between us is real. It is real, and that's the scariest truth I have ever known.

"Tell me you believe me." He whispers it, softly, against my skin.

"I believe you."

A small breath. "I'm sorry."

"I know."

It is intoxicating, the feeling of him against me, even with layers and layers separating us. His forehead against mine, our breaths a heavy, warm mess between us, the heat from his skin, the roughness of his face against my neck.

He doesn't try to kiss me, and I'm grateful. He just holds me, and for the first time in a long time, I feel safe.

"I missed you, Rosalina."

I missed you too.

My hands resting softly against his shirt, I press my face into his neck, and he smells the same. "I can't do this, Nero." If I sounded more sure, maybe one of us could believe me. "I can't keep pretending that this is okay."

I feel the rise and fall of his chest with every breath, and I can feel it more than hear it when when he says quietly, "It's not." He leans back just a little, brings a hand up to hold my face, gently, touching my parted lips with the pad of his thumb. "But I can't help it." And he looks at me like I'm magic, and for a second I feel like I could be.

My eyes flutter shut, and he touches his lips to my forehead, and I sigh against him. And we just stay like that.

"I have a boyfriend, Nero." It seems irrelevant as I press my face into his chest, but it is one of many, many issues with what is happening, with what I let happen.

"I know that." He holds me by the hips, his hands brushing at the skin just beneath my blouse, and even that smallest touch sends heat low in my belly, between my legs. I can feel the warmth, the want, from the tips of his fingers.

His face rests softly against my neck, and he kisses me lightly on the collar, a whisper, a promise. "And..." I try to say something, I had something to say, I did, but... oh, his nose trails a light path up to mine, and his lips are right there, and no. No, I can do this, at least. "And you're not a good guy, Nero. I can't..." His breath is a flutter against my warm face. "This can't work."

He looks me in the eye, his forehead against mine, a sigh falling from his lips. "Then why can't I keep my hands off of you?"

"Nero..." I breathe, and his words make my face burn. "I need... some kind of, of..." Damn it this is hard. "I can't be with you. You and I can never, we can't..." I want to say it, to tell him that we can never, ever work. That there is no way. But with him against me, holding me, I can't seem to get the words out.

So I don't say anything, and neither does he. And yeah, there are things we should say, things that need to be put into words, but it feels like just being here, just leaning against him and feeling his body and mine and his arms and my arms, this is enough.

•§•

EVENTUALLY, I PRY myself away from him, keeping my body at a distance. I have to decide, and there is really only one possible decision.

"I don't hate you, Nero."

He raises an eyebrow, his same dry humour returning. "I'm glad."

Pursing my lips, I look into his eyes once more, holding his dark gaze, letting him know that I mean what I'm about to say. "But I can't do this anymore. I can't live like this."

If there is one thing I know about Nero it's that he is the master of a guarded expression, and now is no exception.

There is a long stretch of silence.

"All I know, dolcezza, is that I can't stop thinking about you." He tilts his head to the side, and I'm warm all over. "And maybe we're not good together." He shrugs, and I think I see a glimmer in those eyes. Leaning in, his voice is just a soft whisper. "But I always get what I want."

A sharp jolt down my spine. My words come out soft, quiet. "What exactly do you want?"

The darkness, the challenge, the glint in his eyes... they confirm it. He holds me, tight, as he answers, and I want him closer. "Something I don't really deserve, dolcezza."

I don't say anything, for a long time.

"I would ask you to change, Nero, but that's not fair."

Leaning against me, against the wall, he keeps my gaze hostage. "Do you think I like being a monster, Rosalyn?" He sounds almost regretful.

"Then why are you?"

His chuckle has little humor behind it. "I think that's a story neither of us has time for."

Of course, I'm curious. I'm always curious.

I see his long lashes, perfect eyebrows, pink lips, thick hair. I wonder who he is, beneath it all. I wonder if I will ever know.

"You should tell me, sometime."

A small, tired smile plays at his lips. "Maybe." His eyes float down to my mouth, and I feel my face flush. "But then I would scare you away for sure."

My turn to laugh. "Nero." Holding his face in my palms, I stare into his eyes, I see his soul in front of me, feel the roughness of his cheeks beneath my fingers, whisper my words close against his skin. "At this point I don't think you could even if you tried."

And the smile he gifts me, warm and soft, is real.

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XOXO Ami 

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